


The Choices We Make

by a_steady_wish



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Episode: s07e15 En Ami, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 15:12:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_steady_wish/pseuds/a_steady_wish
Summary: "You need to see a doctor," he insisted, hand on the small of her back, more forceful than usual; the tips of his fingers pressed into her flesh enough that although she knew she wouldn’t be bruised, there would likely be red marks for a little while afterwards; he was marking that curve as his own.





	The Choices We Make

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to the prompt "You need to see a doctor" and was originally posted on Tumblr under that title.

"You need to see a doctor," he said gruffly as they left the empty building, which had only days ago been filled with busy offices, furniture, people. It now sat vacant and smelled like old air; not even a paper clip remained to prove her story.

Mulder believed her anyway.

You need to see a doctor, he insisted, hand on the small of her back, more forceful than usual; the tips of his fingers pressed into her flesh enough that although she knew she wouldn’t be bruised, there would likely be red marks for a little while afterwards; he was marking that curve as his own.

"You will see a doctor," he ordered, despite her declarations of being “Fine” and “Not affected in any way” and “He didn’t hurt me, Mulder.”

"You’re going to the doctor," he told her, and she finally relented, nodded her head.

They climbed into his car, side by side, and he waited before turning on the ignition. Mulder’s eyes were dark and murky green like a midnight pond; he stared off into the distance, his mind elsewhere. She knew the wheels of his ever-sharp brain were turning, processing.

“What did you mean, he didn’t hurt you?” Mulder demanded, suddenly incredibly present. His voice reminded her of the clips of a gun in the distance: sharp and potentially lethal, but not to her. “Why are you keeping things from me?”

“I don’t understand.” Scully knew she was being evasive, but couldn’t seem to help it; she wanted to put this terrible couple of days in a neat little box and throw it away, not to further upset Mulder and create more hostility between them. He had been quiet and brooding since her return, and although he’d been willing to hear her out and explore the situation with her, there was hot anger boiling just underneath the surface. It showed in his cool glare, in the hard set of his jaw. It made Mulder unpredictable; It made Scully uneasy beyond measure.

“You said ‘He didn’t hurt me.’ Not that he didn’t touch you, but that he didn’t hurt you. Did he touch you?”

Scully rubbed her temples, gazed distantly out the side window of his car. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with Mulder tonight; she really just wanted to seek his forgiveness, find it, and forget that this whole ordeal had happened. Her head pounded; her stomach churned. She coughed nervously.

When she turned back to look at him, Mulder was staring at her with a ferocity she had never seen in him before. He looked almost… possessed. She startled in her seat.

“DID. HE. TOUCH. YOU.” Mulder said again, painfully slowly and with perfect articulation. His eyes bore holes into hers.

“He… changed my clothes… while I was unconscious.” She stammered, glancing down as she realized that she was picking at her thumbnail so roughly that she had drawn blood. “Dammit,” she muttered, grabbing her purse for a bandage. Tears rose in her throat, pushed against the sides of her eyes.

Without another word, Mulder turned on the car, tires squealing as he spun out of the parking lot at a dangerous speed. He refused to look at her; to speak. He tore down the highway at ridiculous speeds, finally pulling up in front of the emergency room entrance and slamming to a stop. Their breathing was loud in the small car as they sat wordlessly, staring out into the night. The window began to fog a little.

“Go get your blood work done.”

“Mulder, listen, I know you’re angry but we need – “

“Go, Scully. I have something I need to do. Do you have money for a cab?”

“Yes, but – “

“Goodnight, Scully.”

He still wouldn’t look at her, so Scully slid out of the car, barely getting the door closed before he tore off again, leaving a cloud of dust spinning about her legs.

The blood work was done quickly; she would have the results in 24 hours. Scully took a bus home in lieu of a cab; she didn’t feel up to making small talk with a taxi driver, and from the elevated seat of the bus she could watch the city whirling around her.

Scully’s apartment was dark and had the stale ambiance of a place where no one had lived for a few days. She moved slowly, the psychological pain of her troubled journey and its implications catching up with her as she shuffled into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, shuffled back into the bedroom.

For a while she sat on the armchair by her window, watching the night sky. She had missed Mulder while she was away, and hoped against hope that tonight he would stay with her, would help her to soothe the strain between them with their lips, their hands, their bodies. Instead he had run off – for what purpose? Was he going to find the Smoking Man – and then do what with him? She worried that her phone would ring tonight that Mulder was dead, or in jail, and then her stupid choice – letting herself be deceived by that son of a bitch – would change their lives permanently.

“Oh, Mulder,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against the cool pane of glass. 

They had only just started sleeping together less than two months ago, but since that first time they had been together nearly every night, curled around each other as they fell asleep, waking up with limbs entwined, soft touches and loving words exchanged in the shifting dawn light. She loved him endlessly, and knew he loved her just as much; but could their new relationship stand the test of this betrayal of trust? Of that she wasn’t sure. He was hurt, and rightly so; he might decide that this amount of torment wasn’t worth the love they had found in one another.

Scully’s neck began to protest her awkward position at the window, and she finally decided to move towards the shower and get ready for bed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep tonight, not knowing that Mulder was out there somewhere, maybe in danger, certainly enraged, but it seemed the most reasonable thing to do at this hour.

The shower was hot and quickly steaming up her small bathroom. The bright light assaulted her tired eyes, so she lit a couple of candles instead and began to undress, button after button, every thought on Mulder and his possible actions tonight.

The bathroom door suddenly banged open, making her jump and scream. Mulder stood before her, still brooding, but less intense; he shook his head as a half-apology.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Mulder!” It came out as a sob. “It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re here.” She reached out and ran her hand down his stubbly cheek; to her surprise, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “Where were you?”

“I was going to kill that black-lunged son of a bitch. But once I got the address for where he’s hiding, I realized something.” He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezed it tenderly. “He’s already taken too much from us, Scully. He’s not worth it. I need to be here, with you.” He paused, letting his eyes share his grief with her, and in so doing, relieved some of her own. “I’m choosing to get past this,” he said softly.

Scully kissed him then, her hands grabbing his shirt and holding him close. A stream of water escaped the shower curtain and tapped against her ankle. “I was just about to have a shower,” she explained.

“Can I join you?” he asked, and Scully wanted to weep with relief. He was choosing her, and this life they were building together; he was really choosing forgiveness.

They finished undressing and slipped into the shower one at a time. His hands came up gently around her waist; she tucked her head into his shoulder, breathed him in. “I missed you,” she whispered. Again she heard the sorrow in her voice, and tried to swallow it down. “Not just tonight, but… through this whole awful experience, when we weren’t in touch, I… I really missed you.”

“God, Scully, you could’ve been killed. Or ambushed, or tortured… Please,” he pulled her back to look at her face to face, all anger shelved for the time being, lines of concern etching his handsome face, “never, never do that again.”

She shook her head to assure him that she wouldn’t, she would never, but the words didn’t leave her throat. She wrapped her arms around him, kneading the planes of his back, kissing his neck. He was growing hard against her, his thigh subtly nudging hers open. She surrounded his leg with both of hers so they could feel each other, flesh against hot, needy flesh.

“Scully, do you trust me?” Mulder asked, teasing her lower back with his long fingers. Back and forth, back and forth, they swept across her sensitive skin, creating goosebumps in their wake.

“Yes, I trust you. More than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“You’re sure? Because I want us to – “ he kissed her, bringing his hands around to cup her breasts, to run his rough-skinned thumbs over her hard nipples, “really be together, to lean on each other.”

She nodded, licking the droplets of water from his jawline. He groaned.

He pulled her flush against himself, moving down her body to kiss her neck, her shoulders; his lips and tongue pressed against her collarbone. “We can move forward from this,” he said, his voice muffled against her wet skin.

“Yes,” she agreed, and Oh god, please yes, was what she thought.

He moved even lower, almost kneeling, rolling his tongue up and down and across her flat belly. “Do you trust me?” He nipped her hipbone with his teeth.

“Yes,” she whimpered, her legs opening further with the blissful anticipation of where he was headed.

His tongue – oh god, his skilled tongue – made its way towards her center, which she knew was already slick and waiting for him. Her hips moved involuntarily, trying to get her aching core closer to his perfect mouth; she shuddered as his lips, skimmed across her vulva but didn’t press in; Scully moaned in frustration, wiggling around.

“Do you need me?” he asked in a deep, gravelly voice, and it occurred to her that she might come before he had finished making his point.

“Yes, please yes,” she begged, hooking one leg over his shoulder as he balanced on his knees on the shower floor.

Finally he was there, his thumbs parting her swollen folds and his tongue soft and firm against her clit, first pulsing against it and then sweeping up and down, pausing, starting again. Scully found herself moaning almost continuously, head shaking back and forth, wet hair stuck to her face and neck as she turned her head side to side. What started as words – Mulder, Mulder, please Mulder – soon became unintelligible nonsense, and her hands found their way into his hair, pressing him even further into her.

His tongue moved in and out of her, seeking out her most erogenous spots, finding them and working them with the skill of a man who knew and understood her body. When he returned to her clit, sucking on it mercilessly while slipping two wet fingers into her, she came undone – keening in a low key while twisting his hair in her hands, sparks of light bursting behind her eyelids.

He moved back up, holding her steady by the hips, and pulled her into his embrace. His cock was hard and pulsing against her belly; she refocused, turned off the water and took him by the hand to the bedroom.

“Mulder, I want you,” she whispered, giving him a seductive smile over her shoulder as she knelt on the floor, facing her bed. He watched her with rapt attention, stroking himself slowly. Still he waited, holding back; and suddenly she knew what he was waiting for. “I need you,” she added.

He nodded decisively and then moved against her back, positioning himself behind her and kissing her shoulder blades with his full, wet mouth. Scully had been ready for him; now his sloppy, fervent kisses made her almost crazed with desire. Her inner muscles clenched on themselves, desperate to feel him inside. Her body trembled with primal need.

“Please,” she cried out, pressing herself against him. “Please, please, please, Mulder – “

They both groaned as he entered her slowly, exhaling, running his hands all over her bare back. “I love you so much, Scully,” he confessed, sliding his hands around to play with her breasts. She moaned again, arching into his fingers. “I would have killed him if he’d hurt you.”

“I know,” she said breathlessly, pushing back against him. She could feel his possessiveness, his stake on her, in the way he held onto every part of her body, the way he made her feel whole.

They found their rhythm, him pumping into her while she held on tightly to the bedspread, pressing her forehead into the mattress. She was so wet for him that she could feel it on her thighs, on his; she pressed herself into him with each thrust to feel him as deeply as she could. She was near tears again, but this time with pleasure, seeking her release for the second time. Every nerve ending in her body was lit up, sparking with electricity, waiting to explode into fireworks dynamic enough to light up the night sky.

“Scully,” he grunted on a rush of air, and she knew he was close; she moved his hand down to her center where he drew circles with her clit, his fingers turning with the rhythm of his thrusting, and then she was there too – they were there together – grabbing and groaning and biting and moaning, riding out the waves of pleasure until they both came down.

Minutes later, as they spooned together in her bed, he played with her now-damp, wavy hair and peppered kisses along her hairline and temples.

“You are mine,” he told her, and seeing her bewildered expression, he added: “And I’m yours.”

“Yes,” she agreed, rubbing her nose against his.

“I know you can take care of yourself, but that’s not the point. Not anymore.”

She was silent as she pondered this. His leg, under the blanket, came up over hers and held her close. It felt good; it felt like a shield around her. In turn, she wrapped her arm across his, creating a shield over his torso.

“Let me take care of you, too,” he implored, “as you take care of me. Trust me to do that for you. With you. No matter what the circumstances.”

Scully kissed his chin, rested her face against his. He was right, she knew; this was the last wall to come down in their relationship, and it was hers and hers alone to tear away. “I will,” she said finally, knowing she meant it. “I do.”

She held him tightly, his heartbeat steady and strong under her arm, realizing that trusting Mulder – much like loving him – was a choice, and she was going to make the right one.


End file.
